


cook it up

by bertee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean and some drunk baking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cook it up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Drunkchesters meme.

The first warning sign, Sam realized in retrospect, was that Dean sounded like he was talking about his dick.

"Oh, yeah, right in there. That's it. Gonna fill you the whole way up, baby."

Wary of walking in on Dean having sex, Sam promptly put a hand over his eyes and edged towards the sound of Dean's voice. "Dean? This a bad time?"

"Sammy!"

Dean sounded pleased to see him, which indicated either he wasn't having sex or he was having sex with someone who didn't mind a little incest in their threesome. It could go either way with Dean.

Deciding to risk it, Sam peeked through his fingers and then dropped his hand down to the side in confusion when the only person in sight was Dean. In the kitchen. In an apron.

In the deep, now Lucifer-free recesses of Sam's mind, he vaguely remembered Dean wearing that same apron when they were teenagers and he had developed a surprising interest in home ec classes. Like everything else they owned, it was plaid, thick criss-crossing stripes of blue and yellow, and before he could stop himself, Sam was moving forward to touch the neck of it. "You kept this?"

Dean batted his hands away and hooked his fingers proudly in the apron straps. "Of course I kept it. How'm I supposed to make pie without an apron?" He patted Sam on the chest. "A man's gotta have his tools, Sammy."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You're making pie?" He looked over to the countertop where a pastry-lined pie tin was flanked by a bowl of cherry mix and a cluster of empty beer bottles. "You're making beer pie?"

Dean shook his head, wobbling a little as he did so. "Beer's for me." He jiggled the bowl of cherries. "These are for her."

Sam pursed his lips. "Dean, please tell me you aren't making a pie so you can try to have sex with it. Because if that's on the cards, I want to be somewhere that is not here."

"Nope," Dean said cheerfully, apparently unfazed by accusations of piefucking. "I'm gonna eat her and have sex with you." He held out a half-drunk glass of whiskey. "Maybe even at the same time."

Accepting the glass, Sam shrugged. He'd heard worse plans.

It was two glasses of whiskey and half a beer later that he found himself sitting on the countertop and finally asking, "So what brought on the sudden pie-making renaissance?"

Dean promptly put the whiskey bottle to Sam's lips and tipped it to make him take a shot. It burned on the way down, warm and soothing, and Sam coughed as Dean said, "You ain't had enough to drink if you're still using words like 'renaissance'."

This was accompanied by a tipsy wiggle of his hips, which was probably supposed to be mocking but which Sam found weirdly arousing. Incest and aprons were a winning combination.

"Why are you making pies?" he simplified.

"Because the gas works," Dean said, stirring the cherries with a beer bottle while he tried to drink a spoon. Realizing his mistake, he switched the two around and continued, "And because there aren't at least eight kinds of mould in this kitchen. And because I want pie."

By Winchester standards, that logic was flawless. Sam didn't bother arguing.

Shuffling further along the counter, he peered into the pie-casing and then looked at the bowl. "So you just pour that in there?"

"Yep," Dean said. "One cherry pie coming right up."

He looked up at Sam with a grin and started singing as he poured the cherry mixture into the pie base. "She's my cherry pie..."

"You have such a healthy relationship with food."

Dean flipped him off as he kept singing and Sam smirked before downing some more beer. With his boundaries of what constituted a good idea now adjusted by alcohol, he hopped off the counter to move behind Dean as he joined in the song, "Tastes so good make a grown man cry..."

It was far too easy to unfasten Dean's jeans. Sam stepped back to watch them pool around his ankles as he finished with a grin, "Sweet cherry pie."

Finished with the cherries, Dean stomped around in a stunted little circle and put his hands on his hips. "C'mon, man, I can't be the stripper and the cook." He kicked his jeans off, leaving him in socks, underwear, a tee and an apron. "I bake food, you get naked."

He looked pointedly at Sam's shirt and Sam realized that yes, he was drunk enough to feel guilty about being fully clothed.

"Fine," he said, tugging off his boots. His shirt and tee followed, tossed somewhere in the vicinity of the non-sex bed, and he held his arms out in case Dean hadn't noticed his shirtlessness. "Better?"

Dean grinned. "Much." His gaze lingered on Sam's abs. "Now come stand over here so I can stare at you while I bake."

Sam enjoyed the fact that Dean was too drunk to even come up with an excuse for ogling him. Unfortunately, he himself was too drunk to come up with a reason why he shouldn't be ogled and so he walked over to lean against the counter while Dean started cutting some dough-type stuff into strips to go on the top of the pie.

He took a moment to appreciate the bow of Dean's legs and the tight little swell of his ass as he went. He wondered if Dean would object to riding Sam's dick while he baked.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Sam reached in to steal a cherry from the pie but scowled when he got a slap on the hand from Dean.

"No," Dean said, pointing a stern, pastry-covered finger at Sam. "No taking my cherries."

Sam couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "I think it's too late for that, dude."

"Haha, fuck you," Dean said, knocking back the rest of his beer. "Stay the hell away from my pie, assface. I mean it, I will kick your ass."

He made a karate-chop motion in Sam's general direction.

Sam patted his butt and drank some more beer. "Sure you will."

His fingertips were still red with the juices of the cherry he hadn't managed to steal and he reached over to smear it on Dean's nose as he kept slicing strips of pastry. Lost in what he was doing, it took Dean a second to notice what had happened and he looked over at Sam with wide eyes and a bright pink nose. "Jerk."

"Rudolph."

He couldn't get down from the countertop in time to avoid Dean's flailing limbs but he squirmed backwards with a yell as Dean stuck his fingers in the cherry mix and smeared his fingers over Sam's cheek. The mixture was cool and sticky and Sam shook his hair out of his face as Dean made a satisfied noise and started laying strips across the top of his pie.

"Oh, real mature," Sam said, fully aware of how slurred his voice was. Sliding down off the counter, he grabbed Dean's wrist before he could restock his pie-filling ammunition and spun him around until his ass was pressed against the counter. Dean squirmed, trying and failing to wrestle Sam away, and it didn't take them long to reach a stalemate with their arms tangled together and Dean pinned between Sam and the counter.

"I take it back," Dean said, straining to hide his smile. "You can go wait in the car when I'm cooking. You got no respect for a guy and his pie."

Sam leaned in to lick the filling off the tip of Dean's nose.

"What the-"

Dean blinked. "Well, that's unsanitary."

Sam rolled his eyes and kissed him.

(According to all the alcohol he'd consumed, the correct response to accusations of poor hygiene was making out.) 

Dean's lips parted under his, soft and warm and yep, definitely tasting of cherries. The taste of beer and whiskey was there too and Sam slipped his tongue past Dean's lips to taste everything he could. It was unfair that everything tasted better when he licked it from Dean's mouth. There was probably something supernatural at work. They should investigate.

Dean kissed back, licking at Sam's lips and then breaking away to kiss a line up his cheek where the cherry mix had smudged into his skin. It was a little like being cleaned by a cat, except a really hot cat who also happened to be his brother, and Sam decided not to overanalyse how interested his dick was in these proceedings.

He let go off Dean's wrists and used his hands for better purposes, such as grabbing Dean's face and positioning his lips back against Sam's. Given the amount of empties littering the kitchen, the kiss wasn't the most coordinated one they'd ever managed but it hit the spot as Dean licked into his mouth and tugged needily on Sam's bottom lip with his teeth. Reaching down to grab Dean's thighs, Sam groped his ass for a long moment before lifting him up enough to sit on the countertop. Dean's legs parted as easily as ever as Sam grinned triumphantly against his lips as he stepped forward and kissed Dean harder.

Dean groaned, grinding forward against Sam's body as he licked at the corner of Sam's mouth. His dick was hard already, shamelessly tenting the front of the apron, and Sam had enough lingering sobriety to be slightly embarrassed by how much that turned him on.

Like a lot of things in their life, it was best left unexamined, and he slid his hands up Dean's bare thighs while Dean threaded his fingers through his hair and held him in close. Shifting his grip, Sam prepared to lift Dean off the counter and over to the bed -- he was pretty confident he could make it ten steps without any drunken stumbles -- but frowned when Dean started struggling as soon as he was airborne.

He broke away from the kiss in confusion. Dean was not the kind of guy to knowingly turn down dick. "What's up?"

Dean kicked his legs and Sam let him drop back to the ground as he said plaintively, "The pie, Sammy."

"Dean-"

"It'll take two seconds," Dean promised, dashing over to lay some more pastry strips and fix something around the edges and other stuff that Sam wasn't really concentrating on when Dean's pert little ass was right there and waiting for his dick.

Luckily for Sam, it wasn't waiting very long. Slinging the pie in the oven, he slammed the door and leaped happily into Sam's arms, wrapping his legs around his waist easily. Sam stumbled but regained his balance quickly when Dean kissed him on the lips and rocked his hips forward to let his dick bump up against Sam's stomach. "Okay, go."

Even as drunk as he was, that was an order Sam could get behind.

+++

Thirty-five to forty minutes later, Dean climbed off Sam's dick to make sure the pie didn't burn.

Sam made a mental note to talk to Dean about his priorities.


End file.
